Phoenix Maplewood all those empty rooms

gaining full strength back will take time, but food certainly helps the process along.

silvered gaze follows sega's to the valley, to the thick tree cover, toward the conglomeration of scent that he can hardly taste here, but must exist judging by the borderline and the other man's words. tongue draws across his lips, wiping leftover blood away from his muzzle, and silence falls over him for some time before he finds a response.

to leave is to seek something new. to stay is something new, though so is passing by, looking elsewhere, but winter is long. long enough that traveling even for its duration may lead him nowhere. this, at least, is something.

i'll stay, he says finally, glancing back. it'll allow me to help in return.